


R+E

by viewofnassau



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore, Overdosing, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viewofnassau/pseuds/viewofnassau
Summary: It’s a beautiful day. Sunshine falling through the hole in the ceiling. Leaves overhead that should be turning orange any day. The forest hasn’t changed since he left. The air hasn’t either. Even down here it’s the same smell of dirt and clay. It’s where he would’ve ended up anyway. Underground. Alone.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	R+E

The hammock is long gone. Richie found it balled up in the corner, caked in mud and littered with worm holes, the threads bare and hooks rusted. There’s no way it will support his weight anymore. It barely supported both him and Eddie when they were kids, and back then they probably weighed less than his current weight combined.

That obstacle almost stops him. He wanted to do it in the hammock. They say most people planning something like this only need one obstacle to make them reconsider. Maybe the neighbors came home early, or you get a call from your mother, or the water’s not hot enough. All it takes is one hindrance to halt someone in their tracks.

But not for him. He can’t think of any obstacle in the world large enough to sway him.

He can’t go back to the life he had three days ago. He can’t go back to Chicago. He can’t walk on stage next week and pretend he’s not irrevocably broken. That he didn’t just lose the only person he’s ever loved for a second time. He can’t pull out his notebook and scrawl down more jokes about whatever bullshit will pay the bills. He can’t wake up tomorrow and act like someone thankful to be alive. He can’t do any of it.

He can’t pretend that his life is going to get better after this. That it was even worth living in the first place.

He doesn’t have a note. The only mark he’s leaving behind is the R+E he reinscribed on the bridge. The police might search his phone for evidence of why he did this, but they won’t find anything. The only people who will know the answer are the four almost-strangers who have all steadily migrated out of town. He lied yesterday and said he was leaving that evening. He knew they were worried about leaving him here alone. He bought a plane ticket that went unused, and last night he parked his rental car in the woods and sat there awake until the sun rose.

And now he’s here.

It’s a beautiful day. Sunshine falling through the hole in the ceiling. Leaves overhead that should be turning orange any day. The forest hasn’t changed since he left. The air hasn’t either. Even down here it’s the same smell of dirt and clay. It’s where he would’ve ended up anyway. Underground. Alone.

Aspirin is a blood thinner. He picked up a bottle from the pharmacy yesterday, trying not to drown in all the memories of accompanying Eddie to pick up the medication he didn’t need.

He knocks back three tablets and swallows them dry, feeling them grate along his esophagus. Next it’s the Xanax. Fourteen pills left in the bottle, and he slowly swallows them one by one.

He checks his phone. One bar. He could still call for help.

He holds down the power button until the screen goes dark, then he throws it across the room, hearing it clatter as it falls against something metallic.

That’s it then.

His head is foggy, but he tries to dredge up as many memories as he can, tears running down his cheeks as he smiles at the thought of all of them down here together. How happy he felt. How invincible he was. The certainty that everything would work out for him, even if Eddie never wanted him.

Eddie.

He’s still down there. Maybe Richie should use the last of his strength to break the support beam in the middle of the room so he can die the same way. So he’ll know what it was like.

His fingers feel numb as he rolls up his sleeves. His arms seem detached from his nervous system. It takes some focused coordination to pull the knife out of his pocket. The one he used no more than an hour ago to trace their initials on the bridge.

He can imagine Eddie yelling at him about tetanus, and Richie assuring him that he’s been vaccinated, and Eddie saying that the shot doesn’t give you perfect immunity, back and forth, effortless and natural. The only person he’s ever felt that with. The only person he’s ever wanted.

He barely feels the knife as it glides through his forearm. He has next to no control over the pressure. There’s a sting that runs through his skin, but it’s like the pain in a dream.

His right hand is slippery with blood as he reaches over to do the same to his left arm, the blood cascading out seamlessly, no obstacles, dripping down onto the dirt floor that probably still bears remnants of Eddie’s footprints.

This is how they’ll find him. He wonders how long it’ll take. A day? A week? Longer? The others will probably try to contact him later tonight, and when he doesn’t respond they’ll start to get worried. But hopefully this will be the first place they’ll think to look. He doesn’t want them to be worried for too long. He doesn’t want them to be scared.

Eddie.

He should have stayed with Eddie. He should have died there with him. He should have told him the truth.

The room is fragmented from the crack in his glasses. The shadows are getting longer. He closes his eyes when they get too heavy. Maybe he should lie down. Maybe it’ll be nicer that way. But the ground beneath him is wet with blood.

Nothing can get him after this. There’s nothing else to be scared of. He’ll never be unhappy again.

He thinks of Eddie’s face in the moments before he died. He looked so calm. Like for the first time in his life he believed everything was going to be okay. And now Richie feels the same.

He’s dying. He knows he’s dying. But he’s never felt so sure that everything’s going to be alright.


End file.
